


Stay

by Boxie (orphan_account)



Category: A Conjuring Of Light - Fandom, Shades of Magic - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, He doesnt wanna be alone man, Holland opens up, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, In his last hours, Kell being kind to Holland, Other, RIP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 10:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16809265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Boxie
Summary: Kell turns his back to the pale man, a hollow figure seemingly made up of only angles and bones. If Holland wanted to die- here, in his home, who was Kell to stop him?"Wait,'' Holland calls out, each sylablle scrapping against his throat audibly, ''I don't want to be..." He trails off, fist tightening by his side. This vulnerbility, this collapse of his wall- the self he never showed, finally appeared. Those few words were certainly hard on his pride, his mask. He seldom allowed himself these moments. Kell raises a brow, turning on his foot. His gaze flickers back to Holland, slumped against the tree. "Stay.''One potent word.'Stay'What if Kell stayed instead of leaving? Get ready for a RIDE.





	Stay

Kell turns his back to the pale man, a hollow figure seemingly made up of only angles and bones. If Holland wanted to die- here, in his home, who was Kell to stop him? 

' _Good riddance.'_ Kell thinks, a voice calling out.

"Wait,'' Holland calls out, each sylablle scrapping against his throat audibly, ''I don't want to be..." He trails off, fist tightening by his side. This _vulnerbility,_ this collapse of his wall- the self he never showed, finally appeared. Those few words were certainly hard on his pride, his mask. He seldom allowed himself these moments. Kell raises a brow, turning on his foot. His gaze flickers back to Holland, slumped against the tree. "Stay.''

One potent word.

_'Stay'_

His breath hitches, pursing his lips. Had he ever heard the man so broken, so _torn?_ Here, slouched on the cold, hard ground. This time Kell turns his whole body, inspecting the perimeter. Should he stay? White Londons' people would slash any throat that demonstrated weakness, is it safe to stay? 'Here Holland is, demonstrating the very thing these people despise. Surely they'd be attacked. _I'm entirely competent, if some cutthroat decides to challenge me I'll waste them.'_ Did Holland really want someone by his side when he passes? Did Kell _care_ enough to stay? His mind flashes back to a suffocated Holland. His bony hand holding a knife far too large against his scarred wrist, pressing deeper as Athos demanded. The subtle clench of jaw, how Kell _saw_ Athos smirk. How Holland pressed the blade deeper into his torn flesh. Empathy tugs him toward the man he so despised- who brought Osaron unto _his_ London. 

''Okay, but we're finding a safer place.'' Kell huffs. ' _I can't believe I'm doing this.'_ His mind recalls a safe haven he spotted for emergencies, a plan B. He hauls a broken Holland over his shoulder, hand still red from when he traveled here. Onto a nearby wall he traced blood, 'as transcen.'

There they were, an old shack where they'd never be found. A lonely place, but a convenient place. He gingerly lifts a glass man down to the cold floor, back propped against the stone wall. Heaving, raspy breaths filled the air. ''Thank... you.'' 

"You're welcome." Kell took place beside the near corpse, crossing his legs, "I just sit with you until you die?" He questions, and a pained cackle let loose from Hollands' lips. 

''You're... surrounded by loved ones. By _Rhy._ Show some empathy.'' he hacks up blood, spattering onto the floor. "I want... somebody with me.'' he lifts a shaky hand to his lips, stained red and smudged it away. If Kell didn't know any better than to stay quiet, he would have made a snide comment about makeup and being a hot mess. Could he not spare his time, despite all Holland has done?

Somewhere, in his heart Kell knew this was the right thing. If Rhy were here, he'd do the same. And so, he does what he never thought he would. 

''Well,'' begins Kell, lifting a hand up behind Hollands head and pushing him down onto his lap, ''You've got somebody now.'' This ellicited a soft gasp from Holland, who soon accepted the warm embrace. The stark contrast between the stone cold floor and Kells' warm lap jolted Holland, but nonetheless he relaxed into the hold. All his life he'd been hurt, hit. _Betrayed._ What does it matter now if he bared his broken self to Kell? He'd be gone before he could regret a single word.

A singled word escapes Kells lips- 

'' _Why?''_

''Why what..?''

''Why did you let Osaron in, why didn't you stay dead? Free from the Danes you throw yourself at a new puppeteer.''

Holland opened his mouth, yet no words came out. He gulps, inhaling shakily. ''Guess I'm just a glutton for pain, aren't I?'' He laughs, hoarse, ''I had to save my London, my _home,_ Kell. No matter the cost. If I was going to die, I want it to be with meaning.'' He emphaized the last word, voice cracking. ''I couldn't just lay there...'' his words breathy and spaced, hitches littered between pauses. 

This reminded Kell, that even Holland has redeeming qualities. His self-sacrifice, his duty to his world despite putting Kell's in danger. 

_The 'Some day King '_

''Those three I mentioned back in Red London,'' Holland rasps, ''you asked who they were-'' He was cut off by a sharp pang in his chest, sputtering. 

''Don't make this awkward, Holland. You don't need to spill your heart to me.'' Kell chides, the open boy was a new sight. Not to mention how... shitty he looked. 

''You've got to be curious, though?"

 _'He's right.'_ Kell admits to himself, ''Go on.''

''The first times someone tried to kill me, I was nine years old. Alox, my brother..'' He screws his eyes shut. ''He claimed Magic hadn't chosen me, it belonged to those who _took_ it. I said a command- he just... turned to stone. Gone.'' Holland made an over enthusiastic gesture with his hands. 

''That's rough, buddy.'' Kell replied, a hand guiding it's way into Hollands now white locks. Once a charcoal black, now a pale white that beat snow. The man jumped again at the sudden touch, swallowing. Hollands condition was so sorry even Kell felt that the slightest movement would drain the poor man. His own blood, his brother tried to slaughter him. Kell tried to imagine Rhy turning his back to him- the day he became _possessed._ When he threatened to wound Kell, and shoved a knife into his own body. 

''The second time...''

''A second time, of course.'' 

This earned a hearty yet pained laugh and a wheezing inhale. 

''Tayla, she tried stabbing me. Said she'd be paid big bucks."

"Girlfriend?'' Kell raised an eyebrow, intrigued. This was when Holland was young, so he must've been so different. 

''Yeah..''

''Wow...'' Kell sighed out, exasperated. How much has Holland lost? 

''Third-''

''You have a penchant for getting yourself killed.'' Kell jokes, playing with the snow-white hair. It wasn't soft, it's coarse and greasy. That didn't stop Kell, though. The chance to be this close to Holland allowed him to inspect his features. He didn't look tired, funnily enough. There are no visible wounds besides his numerous scars. Instead, all he saw was Hollands baggy eyes and bony nose, all angles and no soft features. His jaw bone is clearly defined, reminiscent that of a starved boy. He brought Hollands body up closer to his, cradling the fragile man. 

''Astrid and Athos killed Vortalis- binded me.'' He grimaced, a pain sent through his arm through gritted teeth, ''Forced me to slit the throats of my men.'' 

Kell's eyes softens, curling his bottom lip in. Once again, Holland let out an unholy wheeze, body jutting forward. He clutches onto Kell's arm, looking for stability _any_ stability. He felt himself draining, death drawing nearer. Kell flinches, almost instinctively echoing a word. 

'As hasa-'

''No.'' Holland silences Kell, ''I want to die. Here, in my London. We all know what happened last time I was revived.''

Kell snickers. Holland, cracking jokes? It's pretty rare. His face grimaced after laughter passed, ''Let's have no misconceptions, Holland. I'm here because it's what Rhy would do."

''You should learn how to hide your emotions better, Kell.'' Holland comments, a small smile coming to his face. ''you're an empathetic person, and I'm a broken, abused man. Of course you'd care.''

He's right. 

A hand brushes over Hollands chest, each rise decreasing. He could see the struggle in Hollands eyes, the battle for _breath._

''I'd never thought I'd say this, but...'' Kell tightens his throat, pressing his lips. ''I'm sorry, for taking away your revenge.'' 

''I'd say it's okay but...'' Holland gagged, blood erupting again from his throat. ''It's really not.'' His voice cracked, now airy. There was no solid feeling to it, no echo or commanding in control voice. Just plain, suffering, Holland. 

''Holland...'' Kell whispers, tears biting behind his eyes. 

''I'll.... finally be free.''

And the world breathed in. 

Kell could feel Holland go limp in his arms, any life his eyes held, dampened. These last moments he shared with Holland, the Holland who finally opened his heart in his last moments. He could practically feel the magic absorbing into the world, running in the wind. Holland had done it. 

He saved his London.

White London is no longer starved. The magic- fled, the corrupt rulers made it flee. Magic always had a mind, a conscious. After Hollands sacrifice, it must've deemed White London worthy again. 

_Worthy of its presence._

He sat there for a few more moments, the corpse still clutched in his grasp. With a sharp exhale, he gingerly lifted the body off of his, laying it onto the ground. He stands up, staring down at the body. The sickeningly white, broken body. The body that looked skinny, destroyed. Drawing blood from his lips, he swiftly turned his back. Digging into his pocket, he reveals a red-linin. Crouching, he sets it in Hollands hands. A final goodbye. 

Drinking didn't drown demons, but tonight it would. 

**Author's Note:**

> I cried while writing this. I wish I could be joking, but I was. It's not the best, but what ever lmao. This isn't beta read either. Oops. Thanks for reading!


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